Merry Christmas

Paul and I are off to Boston, then London, and their respective surrounding environs, so I'm not sure when I'll post next. Have a WONDERFUL holiday, and just in case you're not uber-jolly, here's a little something to top up your holiday spirit:

I GOT IT!!!

It's MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE!!!

I have long lusted after this beaut and for even longer lamented about how the only acceptable way to procure one in our culture is to get married. I had since vowed that on my 30th birthday if I hadn't gotten married I would buy one for myself.

But last night Paul changed all that and proved 2 things with 1 gift. (1) He really loves me. (2) He really does not want to get married in the immediate future.

And I'm OK with both. Now I'm going to make brownies for the AA employees working flight #226 tomorrow.

My day

The R's are basically my adoptive family here in the North County. I watch their little man 3 times a week, and they have welcomed me in as one of their own. With 4 dogs, an 11-month-old baby, and a constant stream of unfortunate events crossing their path, things can be a little hectic, so I fit right in. Take today, for example.


I was trying to help get things organized because dad had conference calls, and mom had to pick up aunt and niece at the airport this afternoon, so after scraping the oatmeal off his face and giving him some bouncy time in the exer-saucer I sat baby down in the highchair with some toys. I was trying to find juice in the fridge when I realized the bottom of my pants were all wet. I looked down to see if I had spilled something or if the freezer was leaking, but, no, there I was standing in a big yellow puddle of dog pee. Damn you, Gigi! Luckily, just then dad walked in, so he got me a pair of sweat pants.


When it was time to leave my pants weren't dry and my socks weren't clean, so I decided to go barefoot because I couldn't bring myself to put on my gray ankle boots. Together with the cropped fleece sweats and bat-wing sweater I would have looked like I led a double life, welding by day and honing my dance skills at a gentleman's club by night. Gloria, Gloria, I think they got your number, Gloria! Mom gave me some flip flops she had left over from a trip to the nail salon, and as I drove to the bank I just prayed the drive up ATM was working because there was no way I was getting out of the car looking like that. This all took place before 10:30 AM.


The day took an upturn from there - I got my hair dyed a rich, chocolate brown color; I finally bought a gravely over-due brithday present; and I visited a fantastic downtown boutique with some fab hammered silver jewelry by an Isreali designer that I just might have to order.

Let's hope tomorrow is better. Not getting soaked in canine urine seems like a pretty low bar to set, but you just never know.

Christmas Karma

I LOVE buying people presents, and I LOVE receiving them, too. So today was a super fun day because I exchanged gifts with some of the families I babysit for. Everyone loved their cookies (even if there were some tears because you have to wait until after lunch to have a monogrammed gingerbread cookie).

Jake and Luke each got a book, and then a pop-up Thomas the Tank Engine play tent, which was a huge hit. Seeing their faces light up was worth every penny. In return, I got a yummy gift bag, with a big, red, Starbucks mug, their hot cocoa trio, a gift card**, and a box of Sprinkles red velvet cupcake mix that will be perfect for breaking any New Year's weight loss resolutions I might think about making.

Meredith almost cried when I gave her my cookie, but if it wasn't for her I wouldn't know anyone in San Diego (she pimps me out to her favorite families with the agreement that I always hold dates for her first). Tom and Mere moved from NYC a few years ago, so I gave them Muji's NYC in a bag. Birgen got a glittery coloring pack, Zuzu got some Ratatouille paraphernalia, and Race got his first remote control car. I got big hugs and O's Guide to Life.

**The Starbucks gift card came in really handy when I opened my passenger side door and smashed myself in the forehead. I wandered around B&N for a little while, picking up some sale Christmas cards for next year, and then bought a nice, icy, lite, tall peppermint mocha frappuccino that I held to the quarter-sized lump on my head as I drove home (and a cranberry bliss bar to ease the sting).

Holiday Spirit

In case it's not obvious, I'm chock full of Christmas spirit. Paul, less so, but he puts on a brave face:

In lieu of exchanging presents, we had a Christmas dinner with our friends at one of my favorite San Diego restaurants, Barbarella, which was all decked out for the season:

(And it was cold enough that I got to wear my fabulous new coat!)

The wait staff were exceptionally friendly and patient with us, which wasn't easy given that we were a) 11 strong, b) drinking heavily, c) popping Christmas crackers, and d) had props. Fiona always makes goodie bags, and this time they included mini-Play-Doh tubs. People got creative. Pete made a pooping bunny:

Paul, geek to the death, made an 8-sided die, and then there were some mature claymations involving bunnies and pigs and things the Catholic church doesn't approve of. I was slightly more tasteful with my sculpture:

Who needs collagen when you've got non-toxic moldable goop?

Santa's Sweatshop of Sweets

One week until we leave for Boston (weather permitting), and preparations are well under way. All the presents have been bought, and this weekend I made all my holiday treats, packaged them up, and have begun distributing them. I like to make an array of treats, varying in color, flavor, and overall aesthetic. This year was a little choco-heavy, but people don't seem to mind too much.

This year I also took my first stab at truffles. I used too much 100% cacao so they are for the dark chocolate lovers, not the milk chocolate nambie pambies like me. I'm not sure Martha would approve, but she's also had years of practice. Not bad for a 1st attempt:




Then there are chocolate stars drizzled with chocolate and crushed candy canes (the crushing part was very fun!). The dough on these was interesting because it used powdered sugar instead of regular granulated sugar. They're quite crisp and have a nice minty finish:






And then there was the gingerbread production line. Paul lent an artistic hand, and this:

soon turned into this:

Creativity abounded. These weren't just your regular 'ol Christmas cookies. They had a modern feel with a personal touch. Here are some of the highlights:





(L to R: Pre-op Transgendered Snow Person; Rad Frosty; Evil Robo-Frosty)




(slow Gingerbread Boy, Gingerbread Pervert, Gingerspice Blow-up Doll; Ninjabread Man)


I'll let you all guess who designed which ones.

To round out the goodies I also made fudge (I ended up using Jet-Puffed Marshmallow Creme - clearly inferior to Fluff, but I made do) and candied citrus peels. These treats are primarily for the families I babysit for, and the final presentation is certainly gift-worthy:







Now the trick is to not eat any more cookies before they reach their intended families!

Christmas Cooking

I've got 10 lbs of sugar, 10 lbs of flour, 100% cacao and 65% cacao bars, mini marshmallows, evaporated milk, 8 sticks of butter, heavy whipping cream, eggs, molasses, spices, frostings, decorations, pecans, hazelnuts, walnuts, chocolate chips, powered sugar, icing pens, wax paper, colored cling film, and a brand new silicone rolling pin.

But my local Vons does not carry Fluff, so how am I supposed to make fudge???

Planning for 2008

The other day I started thinking that maybe this year I should switch to a new planner. I've been using Staples' brand planner that looks kind of like this (although, I've been to 2 Staples and haven't seen it so they might not carry it anymore). I like the size - not too big or too small (although it doesn't fit in my smaller purses). Plus it's got monthly AND weekly view, which is a must. I can't imagine just using one or the other. I like the monthly view for being able to look at the bigger picture, and I use the daily for scribbling to-do lists, directions, and jotting notes. But I was thinking maybe I should upgrade and begin the search for a new planner.


As if on the wings of an angel the December issue of RealSimple arrived (a little late b/c of the mail redirect), and they've rated planners for me. No hunting - they brought it right to my door. I want this:

It's the 2008 Datebook from PaperSource in Persimmon, and it's currently out of stock. I have signed up to be notified when it becomes available, but patience is not one of my many virtues. I felt the absence of this glorious life-organizing device this morning when I made a dr's appointment for March 2008, and had to circle the date and scribble a not in the margin of the weenie 3-year overview at the front of my current planner.

ElfYourself

Thank you Uncle John & Uncle Bobby for turning me on to this. Everyone should go Elf themself!

You Are What You Read

I had such a Becky Bloomwood moment yesterday. I was supposed to go to a lecture at UCSD at 12. I needed to go to Macy's, Crate & Barrel, and Gap - all of which are in a mall near the campus. The plan was to run in, get my 3 things, and be out of there in 20 minutes so I could make it to the talk. No sweat.


But as I was walking through the parking garage I had this idea - I could stick with the original plan, OR I could skip the talk, and then I'd have 2 hrs for shopping. *POOF* It was like a weight lifted off of my shoulders.


2 hrs later, I left the mall. Even if I had more time I couldn't carry anything else. I got lots of gifts, and one or two goodies for me: a little post-gym spa kit (for motivation, obviously), some grey boots (not sure if I'm keeping), a purse and jewelry (to go with my fab new BCBG dress for Paul's Christmas party tonight), and la pièce de résistance:

Now should I accessorize with hot pink to match the lining, or should I go with a jewel toned purple or blue?

And now, for the sake of my bank account, I have got to start reading something else.

Papa needs a brand new bag

I've decided that Tom needs a man bag for Christmas. Nothing fancy, just something beyond a canvas sack or plastic Shaws bag. I'm thinking one of these Manhattan Portage bags might do just the trick. Like the small nylon messenger:

I'd get it in either black or navy. Or possibly the DJ bag. In fact, I quite like the idea of my dad being a DJ. He could rock the local 99 on Saturday afternoons with the transcendent beats of Simon & Garfunkel or Fleetwood Mac. After he finishes his yard work, of course.

O Christmas Tree

Meet Tubby the Tree. We got him Saturday! It's actually my first real tree since moving out of my parents' house (where we almost always used the fake anyway), as the little potted rosemary plants I had in NYC don't really count. Paul did a great job with the lights and the garland.

Action shots of us decorating tubby:







Most of the ornaments we bought are generic red and green baubles and globes with glittery snowmen on them, but we each have one more personal ornament (or as personal as Target's holiday section gets): Paul's is a soccer ball and sneaks*, while mine, surprise surprise, is a shoe.

*Paul was bothered that it had regular sneakers, not cleats. I took a closer look at it last night - turns out that's because it's a volleyball, not a soccer ball, and we're just idiots. I double-checked mine and it's definitely a shoe.

Baby's First Christmas

Only 25 days to go 'til Christmas and my shopping is less than 1/2 done. So much for the big plan of being finished by Dec. 1. I love the things I have bought, but I can't brag about my genius gift ideas without spoiling the surprise for some readers. I will tell you this - it might not be on her wish list, but Kayley's getting some hair product:

Turkey Day Redux

Sorry this is a week late, but with the move and then my first swing at cooking a holiday feast as head chef things have been a little hectic.The last 30 min of cooking were slightly harried, but the meal turned out well, and with the help of friends and family we sat down to a beautiful table:

There was a slight mishap after dinner. Unbeknownst to me, Paul put the turkey back in the oven (which was off) to keep it warm and get it out of the way. Not thinking I had to check it was empty, I set the oven to 375 to preheat for the crumble. About 20 min later something smelled waxy, but I thought it was just the cheap candles. Then I opened the oven to find the turkey on a plastic cutting board melted to the bottom oven rack. We managed to salvage both the turkey and the rack, but the cutting board didn't make it:

Hopefully the toxic fumes of didn't harm the unborn child of our friends Mark & Emily (who is 7 1/2 months pregnant). The crumble turned out fine and after 9 bottles of one and 1 bottle of champagne (9 came for dinner but only 5 of us were drinking) we had long forgotten about the cutting board. That's how I like my holidays!

Moving tip: Take your own meds

The promise: Two Men Will Move you, and move us they did! The whole thing took about 4 hrs, and we are pretty much settled in our new home.

Paul had to sign a bunch of paperwork - liability, insurance, blah blah blah - totally understandable. But I nearly choked when they said, "And signing here just says that if you refuse payment we can't withhold medication or anything." "What? Like if we don't pay you you can't withhold our insulin?" I asked. The guy's answer: "Yeah, basically." What I love about this clause is it most likely means this happened, at least once. Hold it right there granpa - you cough up that 400 bucks or Ethel doesn't get her oxygen tank!

Cool or cuckoo?

Are these a sexy alternative to an ankle boot, or do they look like a wedge made out of elephant foreskin?

Sephoralicious

I went to the mall yesterday to return a $50 pair of pants and ended up spending $300 between 2 stores. How does that happen?

In my defense, the majority of purchases were presents: a set of lipgloss for Paul's sister, yummy bath products for his step-sister, a shaving kit for his brother-in-law, and the most adorable outfit (with matching bear hat and booties, of course) for the niece- or nephew-to-be.

My sister mentioned a while ago that she wanted a lipstain so that she could wear lip color without getting having to get Kayley all gooey when she gives her kisses. She's a very busy working new mommy, though, so she doesn't have the tip for the necessary research. That's where I, the selfless sister, have stepped in. I found Vinvet Longo's lip stain in "baby boo" is a good bright plum shade (but apply carefully, it is a stain - not to be done while driving). Then I found Sephora's own makeup line has some fun new products. Today I'm test driving the Choco Electro glitter eye liner with a creamy jumbo eye pencil in a complimentary shade.

I have got to finish Shopaholic takes Manhattan before I get in trouble.

Get packing

Next time you're at your local newsstand might I suggest picking up the November/December issue of Organize magazine. There's a fantastic article on packing for the holidays by my friend and favorite freelancer Beth. Yours truly might even be quoted once or twice with some surprisingly sage advice! Now, Beth, if you had any advice on minimizing the annoyance of packing for a move, send it on over.

And the winner is...

#6! Paul decided the bathroom wasn't as bad in person, we love the space and the view, and yesterday we signed the lease (which the landlord felt the need to sit with us and read word-by-word, but at least she's thorough)! As of Monday, November 19 our new home will be:

2416 Caminito Ocean Cove

Cardiff-by-the-Sea, CA

92007

I love how in CA most things have Spanish names, and yet you get these little places tucked in called Cardiff-by-the-Sea with Manchester, Liverpool, and Oxford streets. Sadly, no TopShop.

Here are some pictures. I'll take more once we've moved in.

Confessions of a wannabe

I love reading a good non-academic book, because I feel like I’m doing something intellectual without actually doing real work. I do have a tendency, however, to merge my own identity with that of the main character. My sister bought me the Bridget Jones books just before I left for England, and I basically thought I was her. I’d right things like “v. good” in my diary (and I don’t even regularly keep a journal).

At present, unfortunately, I’ve just finished reading Confessions of a Shopaholic. I have no idea how it took me this long to read it, but I picked it up for $0.25 at a garage sale, finished it in 2 days, and have requested Shopaholic takes Manhattan from the local library.

Last night I made Paul sit through a fashion show, and he was a surprisingly good sport about it, but I’m still feeling a need for a feminine opinion (or just people to share my shopping conquests with). A few days ago I scored this royal blue Michael Kors top from TJMaxx:

It needs a good steam, but it looks great with black trousers, a black cocktail ring, and a long gold necklace I got at my favorite San Diego boutique which, my hairdresser sadly informed me, is no longer. Just before my last haircut I happened upon a little shop by the name of For Joseph where I scooped up a multicolored print v-neck top with an empire waist and a gorgeous purple cotton tunic dress that has an attached thick fabric belt with hook & eye clasps at the waist. It screams for opaque black tights and a good pair of heels. I don’t know how this happened, but I don’t own a pair of simple, classic black heels. So I bought these little BCBG babies at Marshalls:

I can’t decide if I should keep them. I like the quilted patent leather accents at the heel and toe. Part of me wants a more dramatic heel, but in practice I don’t have a high tolerance for foot pain and am probably better off with something more moderate. They are a little squeaky when I walk, though. This morning I picked up another pair of black patent leather, round-toed, platform heels (please don’t judge me for buying Jessica Simpson shoes) but they might be a ½ size too small.

I was counting down the days til I got to use my latest Express coupon and snagged a pair of jeans on sale (I’m sorry but I am not paying $70 for jeans from EXP – I’d rather spend an extra $50 and get real designer jeans), but the shiny editors I bought are going to have to go back.

Finally, there are these shoe, which I understand are moderately impractical, but I just don’t care.
These shoes are a testimony to shopping karma. I saw them, thought about them, went back for them, couldn’t find them, went back again not looking for them, and there they wore. I was destined to own these shoes. I’m not sure what I can wear them with besides all black, but I might try to sneak them under a pair of jeans with a simple white top and a gray cardigan, and tie the colors together with some purple bead earrings.

Apartments #2-5

Have seen lots of properties in the past 24 hr, and I think we have some viable contenders.


#1 is obviously out for the crime scene feel. I really think if we had moved furniture we would have found dubious stains and chalk outlines. I would not want to see the place through a UV light.


#2 is a darling little house, with front and back yard. Pro's include the high ceilings, skylights and ample closet space. The con's include the fact that it's just about $200/month more than we're looking to spend, and there's a whopping 3K deposit which just seems unnecessary. The purple kitchen cabinets could be a plus or a minus, depending on whom you ask. This one is pretty much out.


#3 is GORGEOUS inside. There are 3 bedrooms and 2.5 baths, a dedicated laundry room and lovely granite counter tops in the kitchen. Pro's include the small balcony off the master bedroom and the privacy; con's include the fact that its location is a little more suburban than we'd like and it's in one of those cookie-cutter developments where it looks like someone squeezed the units out of a Play-Do press. There's not even a pool, and if you're going to be in one of those developments you should definitely get a pool out of it. Nixed.


#4 is the current front runner. It's newly remodeled, right around the corner from our current place, and still just 1 block from the beach. It's above commercial space so it'd be nice and quiet on nights and weekends, and we don't share any walls with the next residential unit. Loads of counter space in the kitchen, lots of windows, and a functional fire place for us to curl up in front of on those long, cold, cruel southern California winter nights. (Slightly unnecessary, but it'll be a good excuse for hanging out in my pj's and drinking cocoa). Only real con is that it's slightly smaller than the others. Currently in the No. 1 position, and clearly Paul's favorite.


#5 is also in a cookie cutter development, but it's got a pool and high ceilings and a loft. I love this place. No, you can't walk to the beach in under 60 seconds and no, the washer and dryer aren't in the unit (there is a laundry room just down the stairs), but the loft. It's got a bloody loft. The bathrooms aren't brand new, and I wouldn't put anything in the cabinets before lining every shelf, but I think the amount of light we'd get from those windows would help my dissertation grow and blossom from it's current state as a little mental seedling into a big, juicy pomegranate tree with little bulbs of wisdom (and powerful body-boosting antioxidants) ripening on the branches. I also think that if I tell Paul that he'll punch me in the face.


I snuck into #6 yesterday, and Paul's going to see it tonight. I have a crush on this one, too, and the view from the back is really nice, but Paul's just not sure he can live with the wallpaper that's in the bathroom, and I'm not sure I can hold that against him. It looks like this place was attached my the same late 70s interior decorator as my parents' house.

Get a move on

After returning from Sunday's puppy party we received the somewhat unpleasant news from our landlords that they're going to be remodeling the house. In other words, we gotta go. We're welcome to come back afterwards, they love us as tenants, blah blah blah...but contractors aren't the best with deadlines. SO...

Let the apartment hunting begin! The good news is that we're not competing with lots of college students. Also, the experience here is much more pleasant than it was in NYC where you have to show up at the open house with all your personal info and that of your 15 closest relatives, plus a bank check for 1st & last month's rent and 3 months security.

I've created a spreadsheet with all the vital information for each property - rent, deposit, approx. sq. ft., bedrooms, baths, parking, date of availability, pros, cons and contact person. We saw our first place this morning. As a pro it had lots of space. As a con, it was...musty. To be more accurate, it smelled like someone had died in there and the body had only been removed moments before our arrival. I've seen 2 more, we've got 1 tonight and 2 tomorrow. Updates to follow.

Spin Cycle

I have been meaning to go to a spinning class since I joined the Y, and yesterday was the big day. I was a little intimidated when I went into the "spin loft" and everyone was wearing proper cycling shoes. That's okay, I'd get the same workout with my sneaks on. Then the instructor announced that we were starting off our weeks with a 90 minute ride. 90 MINUTES?! Apparently I had misread the schedule - I had certainly not bargained for this. Then she showed us the elevation map the class would follow - we would be simulating the stretch between Big Sur and San Simeon, starting with a 10 min climb. If I had enough liquid in my body to produce tears I would have cried, but I just held onto my proverbial big girl panties and thought about all those boxes of CheezIts that are embedded in my thighs.

90 minutes later ... my legs were shaking as I tried to make my way down the stairs. My lady bits - we let's just say that it feels like I had an unpleasant encounter with a herd of elephants in my special no-no place. I think there may be actual bruising, but that's not something I'm going to investigate. If I can get my dimpled bum back there next Monday I might work off that as-yet-to-be-determined treat I'm going to seek out today.

Puppy Love

Paul has survived his kid packed-weekend! We had a baby shower yesterday, and this morning we went to a 3-year-old's birthday party. There was a puppy theme, complete with little furry guests.

Here is the birthday girl (wearing a shirt that says, "I'm this many" and a hand holding up 3 fingers):

She's washing her doggy, Clio. All the kids got to take home a stuffed dog, complete with an "adoption" certificate and doggie bowl (which doubled as an ice cream dish for make-your-own sundaes!). There was a big kennel and a real dog house, face painting, and headbands with puppy ears. All the fun and games left everyone tuckered out:

The only thing missing was a team of counselors explaining to the parting guests that just because mommy and daddy weren't letting them adopt one of these loving face lickers does not mean they don't love them.

(sw)i(m)Tunes

I finally took the plunge (ha ha ha) and used my new waterproof iPod case to listen to music while I swam laps today. It was awesome! Timbaland's "The Way I Are" was good for breast stroke, and I enjoyed "I Touch Myself" by The Divinyls whilst kicking on my back. Now if I can just stop eating all this candy...

Happy Halloween!

It's not even noon yet and I've already had a mini-milky way, fun size twix, and a handful of candy corn - I love the sugar holidays!! When I was little I'd use a pillow case for trick-or-treating, and when I got home with my stash I'd sort through it all. This paved the way for a complicated series of negotiations and trades with my sister. I'm not a huge fan of Reese's Peanut Butter cups and don't like Butterfingers. I can't remember if Steph took those off my hands or I just gave them to my dad, but it was a crucial part of the celebration.

I've had lots of different costumes over the years - fairy princess, nerd, club kid, angel - but I think my favorite was a few years back when I was a washed up actress:

As the night progressed my press-on nails kept falling off, I scored an empty bottle of Jack Daniels, and I shouted, "In my day you needed TALENT to make it, not just tits & ass!" at pretty much anyone who would pretend to listen. (Sadly the photo doesn't show my saggy fish net knee-highs and pink fluffy house slippers, but that's a real Virginia Slim.)

Is there a problem officer?

Well I can't drive yet, I had no idea my parents were going so fast.

Calls of concern

Mom: It's so good to hear your voice. I'm so glad you're okay.
Me: Me, too. We were really lucky. It's nice to be home.
Mom: Did you send me a picture of two llamas running down the street?
Me: [Pause.] No, mom, no I definitely did not.
Mom: Oh, I must have seen it on the internet.

New slogan

How 'bout this:

FEMA: Because it's not officially a disaster until we arrive.

Home sweet home

I was half joking when I wrote my last post, not yet realizing how bad it would get. It got a lot, lot worse, and is only now getting "better" for some. The air is fairly depressing around here, so amidst all this devastation I thought I'd focus on some of the positives.

Paul and I were fortunate enough to have the means for an "evacation" (our new moniker for evacuation vacation). We were also only voluntarily evacuated. We grabbed the guide book, got in the car, and headed north. We ended up in Santa Barbara where we found a nice hotel and tried to relax. We rented bikes for a few hours and rode around the beach front (although this lead to a small argument over whether or not Paul had to wear a helmet. I may have overreacted slightly when I said "Oh, yeah, that'll be great when I tell people, 'No, we didn't lose our home in the fire, but Paul's got a brain injury because he wouldn't wear a freaking helmet!'" Although I felt completely justified telling him he was being 'wicked retarded.'). We then stopped in a local winery, did some tastings, and bought a case of wine.

We'd never been north of LA, and the area was really beautiful. It also wasn't on fire, and that quickly became synonymous with beautiful and goodness. Those hill are really beautiful. They're also not on fire. This hotel is nice. It's also not on fire which is really nice. Other similar fire-related jokes were popular. When loading the wine into the car Paul quipped, "We might not have a house, but we'll have enough to drink so that we won't care." We then spent the night with Aunt Mary, where we were treated to a home-cooked meal and presents and got to watch House.

Returning home was a little eerie, but last night while I was scraping an unidentified gelatinous substance off the bottom shelf of the fridge, I though, "I'm really lucky to have a home." This fire has also made me incredibly grateful for all the people in our lives. In a sobering moment when we tried to picture what it would be like if the apt really burnt down, I turned to Paul and said, "It doesn't matter. We have all the important documents (Paul would have run into a burning structure to save his green card), we're out, we're safe, and we have friends and family who love us and will take care of us if we need help." It was a really good feeling. I hope the people that did lose everything can say the same.

The clean up hasn't been too bad for us, and even in all the ash and dust a little red beacon on happiness popped out at me:

I've been growing these tomatoes since July and this is the first to ripen!

And to put a smile on my face, Steph sent pictures of the little pumpkin:

Wearing an outfit from Auntie Amy, of course.

If you'd like to help out the people who weren't as fortunate, especially the kids that lost their pumpkins and Halloween costumes and toys, there are lots of ways to do so (but if you're not in CA, money is probably the best). Also, I'm usually a big cynic about corporate America, so I think it's important to highlight the good deeds that are being done by big business. Disney Land is even going to have a day just for firefighters and their families when this is over. It warms my heart, which is definitely where home is.

Got Brimstone?

Much like you can't appreciate a true Nor'easter if you've never been dumped with 12" of snow per hr, it's hard to describe what a "firestorm" is like. There are wildfires all over southern California. Paul and I are fine, we are a good 40 miles from the closest fire. It's very smoky outside and it smells like we're living inside a giant BBQ. I will say that the emergency workers seem to be doing an amazing job helping all the evacuees, their pets, etc. Cell phone lines are jamming so please don't call, and just do a little rain dance for us!

It came to me in my sleep

I have very bizarre dreams. Often. Bec says its good - that it's my subconscious' way of resolving things. It's a mental decluttering - I should really embrace that. I don't mind when it's a good dream - like Chad Michael Murray getting frisky with me in an elevator and constantly hitting the top and bottom numbers so that we can remain uninterrupted, perpetual love in an elevator, so to speak. (It's my dream, don't knock it - and if I could I'd have Steven Tyler there providing a live soundtrack). But when it's the dream that I'm showing up late for marching band practice and I don't know any of the drills or the music and I awake in a panicked sweat - that I don't like so much.

The other night I dreamt that my high school drama club was putting on a production of The Devil Wears Prada. I was playing Anne Hathaway's part, of course, but it didn't occur to me until the Friday night performance that I was probably going to have to provide my own costumes since this was such a contemporary piece. To add to the problem, I had gained weight and didn't fit into any of my moderately trendy clothes. I had some of my mom's clothes from the 60s that were old enough to pass for vintage, and I had some fabulous shoes, but that wasn't enough. My sister had this gorgeous one shoulder baby pink number (bizarre, that's probably the one color dress neither of us has ever worn), but she had expressly told me I could not borrow it. It looked fabulous, but she didn't want stage make up all over it. I told her I would buy her a new one, but she had gotten it on sale at the Bloomingdale's website and said it made no sense to buy a new one full price. This argument also made no sense, but it was sibling rivalry expressed in a dream, what do you expect. In the end I took the dress anyways, and then someone accidentally brushed up against it with his shoe, and there were dirt marks all over it - it was fiasco.

Anywhoodle, through a very complicated thought process (I won't bore you with the details), I have decided that this dream was a sign that I need a new pair of fabulous shoes. (And if I needed needed a sign to confirm that, my boos showed up today missing a rhinestone.) What do you think about these? I know they're a little crazy, and I never would have picked them out online, but I saw them in the store and they are quite striking. Although I'm never sure what the rule is with peep-toe shoes. Can they be worn year-round? If so, must one wear tights?

Cultural Exchange

I LOVE holidays - it's part of my inner Martha Stewart. When I have a house or apt with enough storage, I will stock up on decorations at post-holiday sales and store them in large, labeled, plastic bins. So, with Halloween fast approaching, Paul participated in some forced fun and carved a pumpkin with me. (pictures coming)

Glad I was able to get a photo before it was consumed by mold!

In return, I accompanied him to see Elizabeth: The Golden Age. Some brief reflections on the movie: Cate Blanchett is, per usual, amazing; according to Paul it's fairly historically accurate, save the merging of two distinction events into one main plot; the director seems moderately biased against the Spanish; if Clive Owen kissed me, angels would definitely sing from the heavens.

Obama Girls vs. Giuliani Girls

So glad to see young women are getting more involved in politics.


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Back to School

I spent my first day on an active UCSD campus Tuesday. Having attended a small, Catholic liberal arts college in Rhode Island whose entire campus can be spanned in a brisk 15 minute walk, a 600+ year old university whose campus is the town in England, and a large urban university whose "campus" is delineated with the cunning use of purple flags, mega state universities of the American style intimidate me ever so slightly.

As I refuse to pay $80/month for a parking permit, my idea is to park somewhere in the vicinity and then use the university's extensive bus system to get me onto campus proper. This shouldn't be so difficult except that foreign bus systems paralyze me with fear. Maybe it has something to do with falling asleep on the bus when I was in kindergarten and freaking out my parents until I woke at the end of the route and Betty the bus driver took me home. (Ever notice the "this bus has been checked for sleeping children" sign in school bus windows? I like to think I did my part to bring about that system.) I like buses. If you're in London it's worth the trouble to figure out the bus system because the tube is a false economy, to put it mildly. I love the buses in New York. They're generally less crowded and while they have to battle traffic they're cleaner, better regulated temperature wise (and ice cold bus in the dog days of summer feels sooo nice), and they have less weirdos.


My problem with buses is the unknown. Trains and subways run on tracks - even if they skip a stop or 5 you have a pretty good idea of where they are and are not going. Buses have the potential to run wild! They could go renegade at any minute, without warning! It could magically shrink itself and fly into your body with a bunch of precocious preschoolers aboard, seeking to diagnose unknown illnesses lurking within you. I understand this is the idea behind a route, and that buses do indeed have scheduled stops, but you can't necessarily figure that all out by studying the map really hard ahead of time. I like to read recipes 3 or 4 times before I even buy the ingredients to make them. Buses require a certain amount of faith, and apparently I am lacking.

I am happy to report that I successfully negotiated the "Campus Loop." The word "loop" attracted me, but it's not as simple as it might seem. There are several versions of the loop that veer off to remote parts of the desert (or far corners of the campus, however you want to say it), and at one point my driver - would you believe this is a work study job!? - turned off the bus, got out, and took a 10 minute break. I just sat there steadfast on the bus, clutching my laptop bag the way old ladies hold their purses, on my lap with both hands, and waited anxiously for someone to get on and drive the bus.

After managing to get on campus - something that took an enormous amount of pluck from yours truly and a good 20 min - I attended a lecture by Prof. Diane Wolf of UC Davis. I didn't pay much attention to the title of the lecture ahead of time; I was just hoping to meet some people and better integrate myself into the department. The result was better than I had hoped for - the talk was fascinating, and I met another woman in a situation similar to mine (visiting grad student, living here with her partner because he works in biotech/chemistry, technically affiliated with another university). As for the talk, Wolf interviewed Dutch Jewish children who were hidden with non-Jewish families during WWII about their experiences after the war, when their parent(s) returned (or didn't) from the concentration camps. The book is called Beyond Anne Frank if anyone wants to check it out (as I will, and highly recommend others do).

Tomorrow is a beginning of the year potluck for the sociology department and I will be bringing my signature olive-mint-feta-melon skewers in the hopes that they'll be a conversation piece. Who made these, they're delicious? Oh so nice to meet you. Your work sounds so interesting. You should feel free to use my office whenever you like. I'd love to publish whatever you write and offer you two more years of full funding, no teaching or research obligations attached, and my country house in Tuscany for writing up your dissertation.

I probably have a better chance of the bus veering off the Campus Loop and driving to Tuscany, but maybe I just need a little more faith in my work, my socializing skills and the skewers.

The feeling of Fall

Fall is officially here.

What was the sign that alerted me to the arrival of autumn on the West coast?

• Was it the plethora of pumpkin purveyors popping up all over the place? No.


• Was it the fresh and crisp apples at the farmers' market? No.


• Was it the bushels of fun-sized candy tempting me at every turn? No.


• Was it the kiddie costumes in the drugstores, bookstores, and supermarkets? No.


• Was it the carmel and peanut coated apple I cheekily ate on the way home from the supermarket? Close, but no.

So what was it that sparked the "AHA!" moment of fall?

I made myself sick eating candy corn.

The language of love

I'm pretty sure you don't need to speak a lick of French to appreciate this, but I'll translate the title just in case. Je veux te voir means "I want to see you".



Those crazy Frenchies.

Sick station

So after a week of sniffling, sneezing and coughing my cold has metamorphosed into a sinus and ear infection. Yesterday was pretty ugly, but today the antibiotics are kicking in and I've got a good Tylenol/Advil rotation schedule going. [Paul, acting as house pharmaceutical consultant, has informed me I can alternate every 2 hrs because one's acetaminophen and the other is ibuprofen .]

When I was little and stayed home from school sick one of the first things I would do would be to grab the generic TV guide we used from the Sunday paper and map out my morning. It usually consisted of The Price is Right, followed by Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie, with some Family Feud thrown in towards mid-afternoon (and possibly some Nick Jr. depending on how old I was).

While my TV viewing habits have changed - I've got Criminal Minds DVRed from last night and can watch Private Practice (which I am enjoying despite the anger I'm harboring towards Kate Walsh for leaving Grey's and that stupid car commercial she has) at abc.com - I still think it's important to set up sick command. Mine includes

• a box of tissues
• Tylenol sinues day/night sinus
• water
• tea
• my laptop
• the remote controls
• lip balm
• my favorite quilt from Target
• the latest issue of Star

The permissible sick foods of childhood were dry toast, jello, Ritz crackers, Saltines, Stoned Wheat Thins, bananas, apple sauce, flat ginger ale and apple juice. I actually can't drink apple juice now because it reminds me so much of being sick. Now my foods are soup, cranberry juice (depending on the illness - if my taste buds are compromised it tastes gross, as does peanut butter), Annie's mac & cheese, and bagels.

What's at your sick command station?

Tartan tantrum

Do you think Kate Spade had her identity stolen by a Scottish clown with a foot fetish?

Either that, or while at her in law's house for a family party she got very, very drunk, words were exchanged, someone may have critiqued her signature bag, "Oh for God's sake, Kate, just because you were the first to glue a tag on a box with straps and call it stylish does not make you the queen of all handbags!" which lead to her storming down to the basement-come-family room, where in a rage she cut up the couch and fashioned it into a pair of boots, murmuring to herself, "I'd like to see Jack add shoes to his collection."

Those are the only two possible explanations I can come up with.

Sunday night

Paul gets to watch the Premiereship Review Show and I browse for shoes online - quality time together to round out the weekend.

I am still stuck on flats - inflatuation? (lame, sorry, couldn't resist). I'm positively smitten with these:


The fact remains, however, that I'm barely 5'4" and wedges are a better friend, which is why I'm ordering these adorable little polka dot puppies that I've had my eye on for a while. Cute, fun and a good flip-flop alternative. Plus, one more thing to look forward to in the mail!

Don't be a big baby

I know this is a bizarre statement, but thank GOD for cesareans.

I hope this baby doesn't eat its brothers and sisters.

Acting my age

It's only Wednesday, and I've already done 19 hrs of babysitting this week. I've changed diapers and clothes, played on the floor and in the dirt, wiped noses and picked boogers. My clothes smell of Desitin, masticated Cheerios and regurgitated Similac. I've heard, "Amy, go home," "Amy, I love you," "Amy, time out," and "BRUGGGHbplihihihihihihYAYAYAYaaaaahhhhhhh." I have accompanied the Itsy Bitsy Spider on countless ascents to the top of the water spout.

I have another 26 hrs of kid care ahead, punctuated only by a 1st birthday party Sunday morning. I am desperate for some adult conversation, a glass of wine, and food that isn't pureed or eaten with one's hands.

And instead I got carded buying NyQuil.

4th trimester

Somebody's turning 3 months old this weekend! Hopefully she's received her package from Auntie Amy.

Hello, Ladies

I'd been carrying around a DSW coupon for months and finally made my way there Wednesday night. I was a little uninspired, but I also wasn't giving it my all. I passed over a pair of quilted silver ballet flats by Rampage for these spunky little Steve Maddens (pardon my veiny feet):





$15, thank you very much! Welcome to my shoe collection, ladies! I find that flats can often be deceptively uncomfortable, rubbing against the heel and whatnot, but these seem to be breaking in nicely.

Local shops

For some reason I have not wandered into some of the adorable little shops that stud the short distance between my place and Java Depot, where I'm hoping to become a regular (free Internet, plenty of outdoor seating, and delicious treats like the frozen Coffee Toffee I'm currently enjoying - in fact, their only downside is the conspicuous lack of accessible electrical outlets). I don't know if it's because I get intimidated going into new places or because I'm frightening by my lack of willpower when it comes to shopping. Either way, I finally acquainted myself with the lovely store Viva Papel, and just in time for the Stationery Swap!* The have gorgeous gift wrap, some cutsie baby items, and lots of Anne Taintor items. It's a shop after my own heart.

*Everyone that's signed up is a friend/family/acquaintance of Beth's. Where my paper-loving peeps at? Don't make me take you off my Christmas card list.

Shoe help

It's gotten ever so slightly cooler, but I'm missing the east coast version of fall. I've also got a Zappos.com gift certificate burning a whole in my online checking account balance and am shoe shopping while watching the Emmies because, let's face it, awards shows are boring. The most exciting parts come before and after, and since Paul wouldn't let me watch the red carpet preview - bastard, I will rearrange your cd's when you least expect it - and the fashion blogs won't start up til tomorrow, so I'm multitasking. I love my laptop!


So, these are a poor woman's Stuart Weitzman, but what do you think of these:

I really do need help deciding how to spend it. Do I go for something classic, like this black kitten-heel? Or perhaps something more whimsical like this striped canvas wedge? I can tell you one thing, I won't be purchasing anything that looks like this:

This style heel should be banned. Maybe this works on wood block sandals in parts of Asian were rice growing constitutes a large portion of the local agrarian economy, but this style a wedge does not make. It's a platform, and an ugly one at that. I've encountered this style many times on the clearance racks at DSW, and like that ugly blouse you see 4 or 5 visits in a row at Marshalls, it's there for a reason. These shoes suck, and if I see someone in a heel like this I'll do my very best to trip her without making it too obvious. That'll learn her.